Title: To Face Death
Author: Alana Hudkins (BlanaPirahna)
E-mail: Jedi_Princess@cchat.com
Rated: G
Challenge: 142) Mark goes after a murderer. Just before the
murderer is taken away, he suddenly pulls out a gun and shoots at
Mark. Jesse Dives in the bullets path and is hit. Then there is
an explosion in the electrical system, trapping the on the 9th
floor: Radiation. With radiation leaking and a wounded, dying
Jesse, what will happen? How will they save him? Can they save
themselves?
Summary: Mark and Jesse go help out the police in the capture
of a few criminals. Nothing too new, right? But when things go
totally awry, Mark must keep himself and Jesse alive while
waiting for help.
Disclaimer: The characters herein do not belong to me, blah,
blah, you know the drill! Tehe! Enjoy!
*Note: This story is not a sequel. If someone wants to write a
story about the case that the fab four had been working on
leading up to the forthcoming events, feel free to knock yourself
out. I’d love to read about it! I just wanted to write a
story about the bond between Mark and Jesse.*
***
Right on cue, a slightly smiling Jesse proudly pulled himself off
the ground, unharmed. The criminals, at the realization that they
had been duped, attempted to flee before stopped and arrested by
three cops, who had been hiding in the shadows of the small
warehouse as the two doctors carried out their clever trick.
Jesse was always being used in ploys with his friends to catch
murderers, and he was almost beginning to enjoy it. It made him
feel really important. He was startled awake from his ponderings
by Mark patting him on the back.
“Good work Jess,” Mark chuckled congenially. He was
really proud of Jesse for being such a good sport through all of
this. The young doctor always amused Mark in his exuberant
eagerness to help solve all of the cases.
Jesse grinned. “You didn’t do too bad yourself, Mark.”
There was a slight pause. “Yeah, I just wish Steve were here
to arrest these guys,” the older man sighed.
“Yeah,” Jesse agreed, “what a day to be home sick.”
Steve had been on this case and nearly had it cracked, of course
with the help of his father and friends, when he suddenly came
down with a miserable sinus infection and was forced to stay home
in bed by his very adamant father, who assured him that he and
Jesse, of course along with the rest of the LAPD, would take care
of it.
The two doctors turned to follow the police from the building
when pandemonium broke out. An explosion shook the warehouse,
causing temporary confusion. One of the criminals, knowing in
advance of the impending blast, had his firearm ready when the
police officer momentarily lost control of him in the chaos. He,
being a criminal and therefore not a very decent fellow, of
course harbored hostile feelings toward the men who had helped
him get arrested. He raised his gun in the direction of the
easiest target, which just happened to be the old man, who had
his back turned to him. He fired a perfectly aimed shot at Mark’s
back.
Jesse, who, in the disarray just happened to be turned towards
the doorway, caught sight of the man aiming a gun at Mark. With
next to no hesitation and a bellow of, “Mark!!”, Jesse
dove into the path of the bullet, ramming Mark into a pile of
boxes, as time seemed to slow. The boxes and pile of sawdust onto
which he fell broke Mark’s fall, leaving him only to wonder
what Jesse was up to. He was soon to discover this mystery as he
spotted Jesse writhing on the floor in a small puddle of blood.
He was especially startled at the realization that this was Jesse’s
own blood.
*
As Jesse doggedly dove into Mark, with no regard for his own
safety, he soon came to the awareness of exactly what he had done
as a bullet tore into his chest, knocking him with a grunt of
pain to the floor.
*
Meanwhile, the cops, barely realizing the intentions of the
criminals during the blast, quickly secured their quarry and
dragged them through the doorway, which caved in behind them,
leaving the two doctors trapped in the burning building.
Chapter Two
Mark pulled himself off the burning ground and ran over to Jesse,
as gently as possible moving him away from the middle of the
burning building, which seemed ready to cave in on itself at any
moment. He spotted a small corner, which, for some unknown,
un-need-to-know reason, seemed rather stable and as of yet
untouched by the flames and wreckage.
Jesse grunted in pain as he tried to help Mark move him to
wherever they were going. He was losing blood fast and he could
feel the bullet lodged in his upper right chest near his
collarbone. Jesse relaxed slightly as Mark gently lay him down.
He felt himself nearly black out for a moment.
Mark nervously lowered his profusely bleeding friend to the floor
as he got the bright idea to check up on their situation, and to
retrieve his medical bag, which he had left in his briefcase in
the middle of the building. But as he rushed back to the
proverbial “cavern of safety,” a beam fell from the
ceiling, and, while luckily narrowly missing his head, landed
with a crunch on his outstretched left arm. He was able to yank
his arm from under the beam and make it back to the temporary
safety, but the sharp, throbbing pain told him that his arm was
not quite alright. He tried to ignore it for the moment, though,
as he examined the possibly mortally wounded Jesse.
“Are you alright?” Jesse gasped, noticing the look of
pain on Mark‘s face and how he held his arm.
“I’m fine, let me take a look at that wound.” Mark
was astounded at how Jesse could only think of Mark’s minor
injury, in comparison to his own serious wound.
Jesse, to weak to argue, winced as Mark tore open his shirt to
examine the wound. “Aw, that was my favorite shirt.”
Jesse tried to laugh softly, but that only resulted in a few
wheezes and coughs.
Mark chuckled, encouraged by his friend’s intact humor. He
carefully examined the wound, coming to the bleak realization
that it needed to come out. It had already damaged a major artery
and would do more harm if left in. Mark single handedly (think
about it) rummaged through his medical muttering, “That
bullet’s gotta come out.” It would be possibly to
remove without surgery, but rather tricky, not to mention
painful. He pulled out the forceps as Jesse’s eyes widened
in fear. “Hold on Jess. This is gonna hurt.”
Jesse swallowed hard. “Quite an understatement, eh?” He
attempted a smile. It didn’t work very well. He braced
himself as Mark’s steady hand, holding the gleaming forceps,
approached the bloody wound. At first touch, the pain was so
great that a convulsion shook his whole shoulder.
Mark quickly pulled back, trying almost too hard to cause as
little pain as possible. “I’m sorry! Jess, you have to
hold still!”
“I know,” the younger man gasped. “I’m sorry.”
The whole ordeal lasted approximately 10-15 minutes, but, as
these things always do, it seemed near to forever. By the end of
the makeshift operation, Jesse’s wound was bleeding even
more profusely. Mark felt his own eyes well up as he watched a
few stray tears trickle down Jesse’s sweating, contorted
face. The pain Mark had caused his young friend possibly hurt him
just as much or more than it hurt Jesse. He began to doubt that,
though, at Jesse’s strained whimpers as Mark carefully
bandaged the wound. He finished the dressing and exhaustedly
leaned against the stable-enough-looking wall, cradling his
swollen, probably broken arm. “I’m all done, Jess, you
relax now.”
Jesse opened his eyes and saw Mark still favoring his arm. “Now
you can take care of that arm.”
Mark had almost forgotten about it, he was so concerned with
Jesse. “Oh, yes, I suppose so.”
Jesse produced a small plank of wood that he had been absently
picking at. “Be careful for splinters,” he warned,
feebly grinning.
“Thanks Jess,” he smiled, taking the piece of wood from
Jesse. He carefully wrapped a cloth around it and made a
makeshift splint, however that’s done. Mark sighed deeply as
he rose to check on their predicament. For some strange reason,
the fire seemed to be keeping to the other side of the warehouse,
giving them seemingly temporary security. But, on the other hand,
they were trapped. There was no third hand about, there was no
way to get out with both of them injured. Help couldn’t come
soon enough. He finally came to rest at Jesse’s side. As he
sat there in the burning building, his own arm broken and the
young man he saw as a son lying in a small yet growing pool of
his own blood, a certain realization happened upon Mark (besides
the fact that there was absolutely nothing he could do for the
situation.)
Chapter Three
“Jesse!” Mark exclaimed, kneeling beside the small
form. “Jesse, you saved my life!”
Mark’s sudden outburst slightly startled Jesse, but mostly
perplexed him. “Huh?”
The older man was practically in tears. “You took a bullet
for me Jess! Don’t you remember!? You pushed me out of the
way! It should be me lying there right now, not you!”
Remembrance, and a small feeling of pride mixed with
embarrassment came over Jesse and he grinned sheepishly. “Oh
yeah,” he wheezed. “It-it was no big deal.”
“‘No big deal!’” Mark repeated. “No big
deal! Jesse, you’re a hero!”
“Oh, well, I wouldn’t go that far.” Slight pause.
“Hero, huh? Really?”
Mark chuckled and patted Jesse’s arm. “Yeah, I guess
you could say that.”
Suddenly, a bit of smoke wafted over from the other side of the
building, breaking up the tender moment between the two men by
sending convulsing coughs through Jesse’s weak body, of
course causing even more pain. Mark tried to calm him down and
hold him still, and soon the coughs were tranquilized into short,
wheezing, agonizing breaths. Mark gently yet firmly pushed his
fingers against the pulse point on the sweaty neck, attempting to
slow the suddenly slightly accelerated bleeding. Jesse tensed at
the sudden touch, then relaxed into it as he felt the excessive
bleeding gradually slow. Mark removed his fingers and patted his
young friend on the arm. But all poor Mark could do was sit by as
every wheeze pierced into his heart. Why did poor Jesse have to
take that bullet for him? Why couldn’t he be the one lying
there in agony? The shot was meant for him. Every look at the
pale, twisted face made Mark wish more that he could take Jesse’s
place. He remembered back to some of the times he had had
overnight vigils by Steve’s hospital bedside. He remembered
the pain of his son lying there, inches away from the grip of
death. This hurt almost as much as it had with Steve. Almost…
But Jesse was so young…
“Mark,” Jesse panted weakly. “Am I gonna be
alright?”
Mark was taken aback by the sudden question. How could he tell
Jesse that if help didn’t come soon…
Chapter Four
Steve woke up with a start. Something was wrong. But before he
could try and figure out what it was, his health (or lack
thereof) got the better of him. He was all stuffed up, his head
was pounding, and he had a fever. But he tried to forget about
his miserable sickness as he pondered over what he had woken up
over. Then he remembered. “Dad and Jesse! Crap, I knew they’d
get in trouble.” He decided to call the station and see what
had gone amiss. He wasn’t that worried; for one thing, he
was too delirious; and also, though Mark and especially Jesse
were experts at getting into trouble, their lives were rarely in
danger to the caliber that he had just heard from the guys at the
station. They explained the whole thing to him, including what
they were doing to get them out and where the warehouse was.
Before Steve could start yelling at him, the cop at the station
explained to him the reason that help wasn’t already there
for them. See, the cops that had taken the criminals away had
been injured in the blast as well, so it was a little while
before they finally remembered the guys stuck in there. There
were also a few other complications that Steve didn’t really
want to hear about (one of the which being that the building was
almost completely engulfed in flames and would more than likely
cave in on anyone who attempted to enter.) Steve shakily lowered
the phone back to the receiver as he digested the information
that had just been relayed to him. His father and best friend
trapped in a burning building, Jesse possibly dying, and Steve
lying in bed -- sick. He finally made up his mind. He was going
after them.
*
Jesse’s eyes looked hopefully up into Mark’s awaiting
an answer to the agonizing question.
“Jesse,” Mark soothed gently, “Jesse, you saved my
life. How could I let you die?”
Jesse smiled weakly. That was good enough for him. But soon he
began to feel his body weakening faster. Eventually, he gave into
the velvet black darkness of unconsciousness.
Suddenly, Mark heard a faint sound of someone calling him. He
knew he knew that voice…how could he not? Who else called
him ‘Dad‘? “Steve, is that you?”
“Dad? Jesse?” The stuffed up voice that was Steve’s
was getting closer. He furiously tore at the rubble that
separated him from his father.
The first thing that Steve noticed when he finally reached his
father was the makeshift splint on his arm. “Dad, are you
alright? What hap-”
“I’m fine,” Mark assured his son. “Go help
Jesse.”
Steve looked in the direction his father indicated, and the sight
he saw nearly tore his heart out. He uncomfortably swallowed the
knot forming in his throat, which happened to be part phlegm, and
knelt down next to his small, pale best friend, who, as we have
mentioned before, was lying in a pool of blood. Finding that
Jesse was unresponsive, he put to fingers to the sweaty, clammy
neck, expecting the worst, hoping for anything. “Dad,”
he called as he felt a weak, rapid, yet slightly slowing pulse,
“Dad, he’s unconscious.”
Mark continued to clear a path for them with his good arm. “Carry
him!” he ordered his son.
Steve lifted Jesse’s limp form as easily and gently as he
would a child, even his own little brother, if, that is, he
happened to have one. Steve, whose fever was getting more of the
better of him by the second, followed his father from the
warehouse. A veritable plethora of cop cars along with an
ambulance or two greeted the three men as they emerged from the
burning building, which dramatically caved in behind them.
Chapter Five
Jesse slowly cracked his eyes open as he woke up in a very
familiar place -- just not quite so familiar from this particular
view. He looked across the bright, white hospital room and soon
spotted Mark half-napping in a chair next to Jesse’s bed,
his left arm in a cast. Mark started to stir at the weak call of
his name.
“Jesse!” he exclaimed, instantly on his feet. “Jesse,
you’re awake. How are you feeling?”
“Like I was shot and trapped in a burning building,” he
groaned.
Mark chuckled. “Pretty accurate!”
Jesse tried to laugh, then thought better of it at the sharp pain
flowing through his chest. “How’s the arm?”
“Oh, not that bad. Small fracture, that’s all.”
Mark sighed and tried to gather his thoughts into words. He hadn’t
planned to fall asleep while waiting for Jesse to wake up. “Jesse,
I need to talk to you.”
“Why did I have a feeling that was coming?” Jesse
grinned.
Mark chuckled and finished gathering his thoughts. “Jesse,
when we were trapped in that building, not sure when or if help
would come, I was scared. Really scared.
“All I could think of was you lying there, dying, and
absolutely nothing I could do. I thought about the times I had
done close to the same with Steve in the past, and the feeling
was almost the same. A feeling of helplessness, hopelessness,
and, … and love. Jesse, you took that bullet for me, and for
that I am forever grateful. Jesse, if you had … you know, I
just …”
Jesse’s misty eyes looked up at Mark‘s, fully
understanding what the older man was trying to communicate.
“Just don’t ever do anything like that again!”
Mark teased in conclusion.
“Well, looks like the little Sleeping Beauty is finally
awake!” Jesse and Mark were greeted rather boisterously by
Steve and Amanda.
“Hey guys!” Jesse welcomed weakly.
“How are you doing?” Steve asked rather stuffily.
“A bit better than you sound,” Jesse returned
playfully. “You should be in bed, you’re sick!”
“Hey! I was already up!”
Amanda silenced the bickering boys. “Okay guys, cool it. We
had to come see how you were doing.”
“Yeah, I hear our Jesse’s the big hero!” Steve
playfully rumpled his blushing best friend’s already messy
hair.
“Oh, I don’t know about all that,” Jesse mumbled
sheepishly. Then he got a little gleam in his eye. “But it
was pretty bad in there. Inches away from the grip of death, not
knowing when -- or if -- help would come. The flames dancing at
our feet, the smoke choking our lungs--” He added a few dry,
demonstrative coughs.
“Uh, Jesse,” Mark warned.
“Well, close enough!”
